Next valiant and noble Lord Howard,

That formerly dealt in lambs-wool;

Who knowing what it is to be towered,

By impeaching may fill the jails full.

_The Conspiracy, or the Discovery of the Fanatic Plot._

Accustomed to tamper with evidence, Howard did not hesitate to

contaminate the noblest name in England, by practising the meannesses

and villainies he had taught to others. For the sake of his shameful

life, he bore witness against Russel and Sidney to all he knew, and

probably to a great deal more. The former had always hated and despised

Howard, and had only been induced to tolerate his company by the

persuasions of Essex: The recollection, that, by introducing his best

friend to the contagion of such company, he had, in fact, prepared

his ruin, was one of the reasons assigned for that unfortunate peer's

remorse and suicide.

Note XXII.

_Not bull-faced Jonas, who could statutes draw

To mean rebellion, and make treason law._--P. 234.

Sir William Jones was an excellent lawyer, and, in his private

character, an upright, worthy, and virtuous man; in his religion he

had some tendency to nonconformity, and his political principles were

of the popular cast. He was the king's attorney-general, and as such

conducted all the prosecutions against those concerned in the Popish

plot. He was, or affected to be, so deeply infected by the epidemic

terror excited by this supposed conspiracy, that he had all his billets

removed from his cellar, lest the Papists should throw in fire-balls,

and set his house on fire. He closed, nevertheless, with the court,

in an attempt to prohibit coffee-houses, on account of the facility

which they afforded in propagating faction and scandal; for this, he

was threatened by the country party with an impeachment in parliament.

Sir William Jones shortly after resigned his office under government,

and went into open opposition. He distinguished himself particularly,

by supporting the bill of exclusion, and by a violent speech in the

Oxford parliament, on the subject of the clerk's mislaying the Bill

for repealing the 35th of Elizabeth, an act against dissenters. He was

on his legs, as the phrase is, in the same house, arguing vehemently

on the subject of Fitzharris, when the Black Rod knocked at the door,

to announce the sudden and unexpected dissolution of the parliament.

A well written pamphlet, entitled, "Advice to Grand Juries," which

appeared on the eve of the presentment against Shaftesbury, is said to

have had some effect in producing the ignoramus verdict, on that bill.

Sir William Jones is said to have regretted the share he took in the

prosecutions on account of the plot; which is extremely probable, as

his excellent talents, and sound legal principles, could not fail, when

clamour and alarm were over, to teach him how far he had been misled.

His anxiety for the situation of the country is supposed to have

accelerated his death, which took place in 1682, at Mr Hampden's house,

in Buckingham-shire.

Note XXIII.

_Shimei, whose youth did early promise bring

Of zeal to God, and hatred to his king._--P. 235.

Slingsby Bethel was son of Sir Walter Bethel, knight, by Mary, daughter

of Sir Henry Slingsby of Scriven, in Yorkshire, and sister to Sir

Henry Slingsby, a steady loyalist, who was condemned by Cromwell's

high court of justice, and beheaded on Towerhill in 1655. Bethel

was early attached to the fanatical interest, both by religious and

political tenets; he was even a member of the Committee of Safety. But

he was a staunch republican, and no friend to the Protector; being,

it is believed, the author of that famous treatise, entitled "The

World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell." He was elected sheriff, with

Cornish, on Midsummer-day 1680, and the choice was, in many respects,

disadvantageous to the popular party. In the first place, they were

both Independents; and, before taking upon them their offices, they

conformed, and took the sacrament according to the church of England's

ritual. It was believed, that nothing but the necessity of qualifying

themselves to serve their party in this office, could have prevailed

on them to have done so, and this gave advantages against their whole

party. Besides, Cornish was a downright, plain-spoken republican,

and Bethel had expressed himself very bluntly in justification of

the execution of Charles I.; and was, therefore, obnoxious to every

slur which the royalists could bring against him, as ill-disposed to

monarchy. Further still, Bethel's extreme and sordid meanness gave

great disgust to the citizens, who were accustomed to consider the

exercise of a splendid and ostentatious hospitality as the principal

part of a sheriff's duty. He kept no table, lived in a chop-house, and,

long afterwards, whoever neglected to entertain during his shrievalty,

was said to "_Bethel_ the city." Bethel is mentioned among the subjects

of deprecation in "The Loyal Litany:"

From serving great Charles, as his father before;

And disinheriting York, without why or wherefore;

And from such as Absalom has been, or more;

Libera nos, &c.

From Vulcan's treasons, late forged by the fan;

From starving of mice to be parliament-man;

From his copper face, that out-face all things can;

Libera nos, &c.

These two sheriffs first set the example of packing juries, when

persons were to be tried for party offences; for they took the task

of settling the pannels for juries out of the Compters into their

own hands, and left the secondaries of the Compters, who had usually

discharged that duty, only to return the lists, thus previously

made up. In Middlesex, they had the assistance of Goodenough, the

under-sheriff, a bustling and active partizan, who very narrowly

escaped being hanged for the Rye-house Plot. By this selection of

jurymen, the sheriffs insured a certainty of casting such bills as

might be presented to the Grand Jury against any of their partizans.

This practice was so openly avowed, that Settle has ventured to make it

a subject of eulogy:

Next Hethriel write Baal's watchful foe, and late

Jerusalem's protecting magistrate;

Who, when false jurors were to frenzy charmed,

And, against innocence, even tribunals armed,

Saw depraved justice ope her ravenous maw,

And timely broke her canine teeth of law.

The Earl of Shaftesbury himself reaped the advantage of this

manœuvre; which, from the technical word employed in the return of

these bills, was called _Ignoramus_. Stephen Colledge, the Protestant

joiner, also experienced the benefit of a packed jury, though concerned

in all the seditious practices of the time. He was afterwards tried,

condemned, and executed at Oxford, where he was out of the magic

circle of the sheriff's protection; and, though I believe the man

deserved to die, he certainly at last met with hard measure. His

death was supposed to have broke the talisman of Ignoramus, and was

considered as a triumph by the Tories, who, for a long time, had

been unable to persuade a jury to find for the king.[323] When Lord

Stafford was most unjustly condemned, Bethel and his brother sheriff

affected a barbarous scruple, whether the king was entitled to commute

the statutory punishment of high treason into simple decapitation.

The House of Commons ordered that the king's writ be obeyed. This

hard-hearted conduct was an indulgence of their republican humour.

Shortly after, Mr Bethel was found guilty of a riot and assault upon

one of the king's watermen at the election of members of parliament for

Southwark, 5th October, 1681. This person being active in the poll,

Mr Bethel caned him, and told him he would have his coat (the king's

livery) stripped over his ears. For this he was fined five merks.

Bethel, notwithstanding his violence, was so fortunate as to escape

the business of the Rye-house Plot. His brother sheriff, Cornish, was

not so fortunate: He was a plain republican, and highly esteemed by

Lord Russell, for having treated with indifference the apprehension of

the Tower firing on the city, saying, they could only demolish a few

chimneys. He was executed as an accomplice in the Rye-house conspiracy,

upon the evidence of that very Goodenough, who had been his tool in

packing the illegal juries; so that his death seemed a retribution

for dishonouring and perverting the course of justice. James II. was

afterwards satisfied that Cornish had been unjustly executed, and

restored his estate to his family.

Note XXIV.

_Yet Corah, thou shalt from oblivion pass;

Erect thyself, thou monumental brass,

High as the serpent of thy metal made,

While nations stand secure beneath thy shade!_--P. 236.

Titus Oates, once called and believed the Saviour of his country, was

one of the most infamous villains whom history is obliged to record. He

was the son of an anabaptist ribbon-weaver, received a tolerably good

education, and, having taken orders, was preferred to a small vicarage

in Kent. Here the future protestant witness was guilty of various

irregularities, for which he was at length silenced by the bishop, and

by the Duke of Norfolk deprived of his qualification as chaplain. At

this pinching emergency he became a papist, either for bread, or, as

he afterwards boasted, for the purpose of insinuating himself into the

secrets of the Jesuits, and betraying them.[324]

The Jesuits setting little store by their proselyte, whose talents

lay only in cunning and impudence, he skulked about St Omers and

other foreign seminaries in a miserable condition. Undoubtedly he had

then the opportunity of acquiring that list of names of the order of

Jesus with which he graced his plot, and might perhaps hear something

generally of the plans, which these intriguing churchmen hoped to

carry through in England by means of the Duke of York. Of these,

however, he must have had a very imperfect suspicion; for the scheme

which is displayed in the letters of Coleman, the duke's secretary,

does not at all quadrate with the doctor's pretended discovery. When

confronted with Coleman, he did not even know him personally. When the

king asked him about the personal appearance of Don John of Austria,

he described him, at a venture, as a tall thin black man, being the

usual Spanish figure and complexion; but, unfortunately, he was little,

fair, and fat. In a word, it was impossible such a villain could have

obtained a moment's credit, but for the discovery of Coleman's actual

intrigues, the furious temper of the times, and the mysterious death

of Sir Edmondbury Godfrey. On that last occasion he displayed much

dexterity. There was some difficulty in managing the evidence, whether

to bring the assassination to the conspiracy, or the conspiracy to the

assassination; but Oates contrived the matter with such ingenuity,

that the murder became a proof, and the plot became a proof of the

murder, to the universal conviction of the public. As to Oates' other

qualities, he was, like every renegade, a licentious scoffer at

religion, and, in his manners, addicted, it is said, to the most foul

and unnatural debaucheries. When we consider his acts and monuments, it

is almost impossible to believe, how so base a tool should have ever

obtained credit and opportunity to do such mighty mischief.[325]

As for his family, to which Dryden alludes a little below, "he would

needs," says North, "be descended of some ancient and worshipful stock;

but there were not so many noble families strove for him, as there were

cities strove for the _parentele_ of Homer. However, the heralds were

sent for, to make out his pedigree, and give him a blazon. They were

posed at the first of these, but they made good the blazon for him

in a trice, and delivered it _authenticamente_, and it was engraved

on his table and other plate; for he was rich, set up for a solemn

housekeeper, and lived up to his quality."[326]

Dryden compares Oates to the brazen serpent raised up in the

wilderness, by looking on which, the Israelites were cured of the bites

of the fiery snakes. Sprat had applied the same simile, in a favourable

sense, to Oliver Cromwell:

Thou, as once the healing serpent rose,

Was lifted up, not for thyself, but us.

Note XXV.

_Sunk were his eyes, his voice was harsh and loud;

Sure signs he neither choleric was, nor proud:

His long chin proved his wit; his saint-like grace

A church vermilion, and a Moses' face._--P. 236.

North has left us some specimens of Oates' peculiar mode of

pronounciation. Bedloe, his brother-witness in the plot, had been

taken ill at Bristol, and, on his death-bed, held some conference with

the Lord Chief-Justice North, then upon a circuit, who took down his

examination, concerning which numerous reports went forth. It proved,

however, to be the same story he had formerly told. Even Dr Oates

himself was disappointed; and was heard to say aloud, as the Lord

Chief-Justice passed through the court on a council-day, at all which

times he was a diligent attendant, "Maay Laird Chaife-Jaistaice, whay

this baisness of Baidlaw caims to naithaing." But his Lordship walked

on without attending to his discourse.[327]

In personal appearance North informs us, that "he was a low man, of

an ill-cut very short neck; and his visage and features were most

particular. His mouth was the centre of his face, and a compass there

would sweep his nose, forehead, and chin, within the perimeter. _Cave

quos Deus ipse notavit._"[328] An engraving of the doctor, now before

me, bears witness to this last peculiarity, and does justice to the

cherubic plenitude of countenance and chin mentioned in the text. It

is drawn and engraved by Richard White, and bears to be "the true

originall, taken from the life, done for Henry Brome and Richard

Chiswel; all others are counterfeit."

As the doctor's portrait is not now quite so common as when the

lady, mentioned in the Spectator, wore it upon her fan, gloves, and

handkerchief, the curious reader may be pleased to be informed, that

this "true original" is prefixed to "The Witch of Endor, or the

Witchcrafts of the Roman Jezebel, by Titus Oates, D. D. folio 1679."

It is dedicated to the Earl of Shaftesbury, &c.; "the Publisher's

affectionate good friend, and singular good Lord."

Note XXVI.

_And gave him his rabinical degree,

Unknown to foreign university._--P. 237.

Oates pretended to have taken his doctor's degree at Salamanca, where

it is shrewdly suspected he never was; at least where he certainly

never took orders. The Tory libels of the time contain innumerable

girds concerning this degree. There is, in the Luttrel Collection,

"An Address from Salamanca to her (unknown) offspring, Dr T. O."

Dryden often alludes to the circumstance; thus, in the epilogue to

"Mithridates," acted 1681-2,

Shall we take orders? that will parts require;

Our colleges give no degrees for hire.--

Would Salamanca were a little nigher!

Note XXVII.

_And Corah might for Agag's murder call,

In terms as coarse as Samuel used to Saul._--P. 237.

In the first book of Samuel, chap. xv., the reader will find the

reproaches with which that prophet loaded Saul, for sparing, contrary

to God's commandment, Agag, king of the Amalekites; concluding with the

awful denunciation, that for his disobedience the Lord had rejected him

from being king over Israel.

Agag's murder is to be understood of the mysterious death of Sir

Edmondbury Godfrey. This gentleman was an active justice of peace, and

had been knighted by Charles II., on account of his exertions during

the fire of London. In other respects, he was low-spirited, and rather

a timorous man, and, in the exercise of his office, favourable to

the Catholics. Oates, finding the information he had lodged with the

ministers concerning the Popish plot rather less ardently listened

to than he expected, chose to utter before this magistrate a full

declaration on the subject upon oath. His intention was probably

to make the matter as public as possible. Godfrey expressed much

unwillingness to have any thing to do with the matter at all; and

when he had heard the story out, expressed to his friends his fear

that he should have no thanks for his pains, but would probably be

the first martyr. This strange, and one would think absurd, boding

proved too true; after having been missing for several days, this

unfortunate man was found lying in a ditch, near Primrose-hill. There

were marks of strangling round his neck; and although his own sword

was thrust through his body, yet it turned out to have been done after

death. His money and rings were safe; robbery was therefore out of the

question. This murder ever will remain among the riddles of history.

Three opinions have been entertained: 1st, North does not hesitate to

affirm, that the contrivers and abettors of the plot murdered this poor

man, to give some colour to the story of the bloody machinations of

the Papists: But this seems too strange and desperate a course to be

imputed to the opposition party at large without some positive proof;

and as for Oates and his brother witnesses, (whom we will not injure

by suspecting them capable of remorseful, or compunctious visitings,)

their steps were, at this time, too much the object of observation to

admit of their executing so bloody a plan with the necessary degree of

secrecy. 2d, It has been thought that Godfrey, a man of a melancholy

temperament, whose dark and cloudy spirit had been just agitated by a

strange tale of blood and mystery, may have been wrought up to take

that time to commit suicide. It is even positively asserted, that he

hanged himself at home, and that his brothers conveyed the body to the

place where it was found, to avoid the shame and other consequences

of his fate becoming public. There is something plausible in this

account; but it is entirely unsupported by proof of any kind. 3d, The

grand solution, and indeed the only one which would go down at the

time, was, that Godfrey had fallen by the papists. There were probably

enough of fanatics in that sect to have executed such a deed, had

it been of consequence to the progress of their religion: But there

appears no adequate motive for taking off Godfrey, who had merely taken

down a deposition which he could not refuse to receive, and who had

besides endeavoured to serve the accused parties, by transmitting to

Coleman an account of the affidavit; while Oates and his companions,

the depositaries of the supposed secret, and whose death would stifle

the plot for ever, were suffered to walk about, even unattempted.

Positive evidence was however obtained, to silence all hypothetical

reasoning on the subject. One Bedlow, a very infamous character, amid

a thousand dreadful stories of fires raised by the Jesuits from 1666

downwards, charged the Catholics, and particularly Miles Prance, a

silver-smith, with the death of Godfrey[329]. This man was imprisoned

in Newgate; and, after much communing with Shaftesbury and Buckingham,

in which, it is said, neither threats, promises, nor actual tortures

were spared, confessed himself an accomplice in the murder.[330] He

retracted this confession before the privy-council; but being remanded

to prison, new terrors, promises, and sufferings, induced him to

retract that retractation. His story was a tissue of improbabilities;

and he and Bedlow, when adduced as evidence on the trial of three poor

men, whom they charged with strangling Godfrey, concealing the body

in Somerset-House, and afterwards disposing of it on Primrose-hill,

contradicted each other, and contradicted themselves. All was in vain:

the three innocent victims of perjury were condemned and executed, and

the witnesses promoted and rewarded, not with money only, but, strange

to say, with universal respect and regard; although their merit,

supposing it to be real, was that of murderers and incendiaries, who

had turned evidence for the crown against their accomplices.

The outcry raised about Godfrey's murder at the time, and for long

after, gave the plot its surest foundation and support. When his

funeral rites were performed, the crowd was prodigious, and the papists

were sufficiently cautious to keep within doors, or some might have

been offered up as an oblation to the manes of Justice Godfrey. While

the clergyman preached the funeral sermon of the protestant victim, two

robust divines stood by him in the pulpit, lest, while rendering this

last duty to the murdered magistrate, he should _in facie ecclesiæ_

be murdered by the papists. At the formal pope-burnings of the party,

Sir Edmondbury, supported on a steed by his murderers, was a principal

figure in the procession, preceded by a harbinger, who rung a bell,

and admonished the people to remember Justice Godfrey. In short, this

unfortunate gentleman's death, however it came about, continued long to

be the watch-word and war-cry of those, who called themselves the true

protestant party.

Note XXVIII.

_The crowd, that still believe their kings oppress,

With lifted hands their young Messiah bless;

Who now begins his progress to ordain,

With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train._--P. 239.

"In August, 1680, the Duke of Monmouth went into the country to divert

himself, visiting several gentlemen in the west of England, by whom

he was received and entertained with a gallantry suitable to the

greatness of his birth, and the relation he stood in to his majesty;

incredible numbers of people flocking from all the adjacent parts

to see this great champion of the English nation, who had been so

successful against both the Dutch, French, and Scots. He went first

into Wiltshire, and was pleased to honour the worthy esquire Thynne

with his company for some days. From thence he went to Mr Speak's,

in Somersetshire, in which progress he was caressed with the joyful

acclamations of the country people, who came from all parts; twenty

miles about the lanes and hedges being every where lined with men,

women, and children, who, with incessant shouts, cried, "God bless King

Charles and the Protestant Duke!" In some towns and parishes which he

passed through, they strewed the streets and highways where he was to

pass with herbs and flowers, especially at Ilchester and Pithyton;

others presenting him with bottles of wine. When he came within ten

miles of Mr Speak's, he was met by two thousand persons on horseback,

whose numbers still increased as they drew nearer to Mr Speak's, and

when they arrived there, they were reputed to be twenty thousand;

wherefore they were forced to break down several pearch of his park

pales to enlarge their passage to the house, where his grace and all

this numerous company were entertained and treated, in an extraordinary

manner.

"On the 26th, he went to Brompton; being met on the road by a great

company of gentry and country people, who conducted him to Sir J.

Sydenham's, where he was entertained at a noble and splendid dinner.

The next day he went to Barrington, where he was pleased to honour Mr

William Stroud with his company at dinner; the entertainment being

nothing inferior to what his Grace had met with in all other places.

After dinner he went to Chard, where he arrived about five in the

afternoon, attended with a train of five thousand horsemen; and there

he was met and welcomed by a crowd of men, women, and children, who

had not a mute among them, but were almost all of them made deaf by

their own shouts and acclamations of joy. His Grace lay there that

night, being treated at a very splendid supper; he lodged at the

house of M. Prideaux.[331] The next day, having been entertained at a

sumptuous dinner, he rid to Ilminster, and in the afternoon he went

to Whitelackindon, where he lay that night; and the day following,

which was Sunday, his grace observed the Sabbath with a religious

care, and went to Ilminster church. On the 30th, he went to Calliton,

where he was entertained by Sir Walter Young. The next day he went to

Overton, where he was entertained, and lodged by Mr Dukes. From thence

he went to Exeter, and was met by the citizens and the people of all

the adjacent parts, to the number of twenty thousand persons; but that

which was more remarkable, was the appearance of a brave company of

brisk, stout young men, all clothed in linen waistcoats and drawers,

white, and harmless, having not so much as a stick in their hands; they

were in number about nine hundred or a thousand; they went three miles

out of the city to meet his Grace, where they were drawn up all on a

little hill, and divided into two parts, in which order they attended

the Duke's coming, who rid up first between them, and then round each

company; after which they united, and went hand in hand in order

before, where he was no sooner arrived, but a universal shout from all

parts echoed forth his welcome; the numerous concourse of people, the

incredible and amazing acclamations, and the universal joy which then

filled the whole city, far exceeding my pen to describe.[332]

"From thence he returned to Mr Speake's, where the whole country

flocked again to see and admire him, not being enough satisfied with

their former sight. From thence he went the next day to Mr Harvie's,

near Yeovil, where he dined, and in the afternoon he rid to Esquire

Thynne's; people flocking from all the towns and villages thereabout

to Howden-hill, where they attended the Duke's coming; and after

they had, by loud acclamations, proclaimed his welcome amongst them,

and expressed their joy for his safe return, they took their leave

of him, returning his Grace their humble and hearty thanks for that

kind visit, and for his having condescended to accept of their plain,

but true-hearted entertainment. From thence he returned to London,

wonderfully pleased with the noble and generous entertainment he met

with at the several places where he came; every place striving to

out-vye each other."[333]

At Tunbridge Wells. "Abundance of country people rudely crowded, after

their rustic manner, to see the eldest son of their king and sovereign,

every one extolling him to the skies, crying to one another, 'O what

a brave man he is!' Some admired the beauty and make of his person;

some the majesty and port of his carriage; and others, who had seen

the king, the exact resemblance he bare to his majesty; affirming,

they never, in all their lives, saw a son resemble a father more than

the duke did the king; but all admired his affable and courteous

disposition."[334]

These assemblies were chiefly made under pretence of cock-matches,

horse-races, and other popular amusements; pretexts the more dangerous,

as they were the well-known signals of rendezvous at which the

cavaliers were wont to concert their plots against Cromwell. See the

tract called "Killing no Murder." Foot races, wrestling matches, and

other country pastimes, were also resorted to as an ostensible cause

of meeting. These gave Monmouth an opportunity to display his personal

agility and liberality. He wrestled, he ran, and carried off the prize,

in both exercises; he then ran in his boots against the peasants in

their shoes, and still obtained the victory. The prizes which he gained

were freely distributed among his competitors. All these arts of

popularity became the derision of his enemies, when he was forced into

exile; as, for example, in the following verses:

Monmouth, for wit, who was able

To make to a crown a pretence;

The head and the hope of the rabble,

A loyal and politic prince:

But now he's gone into Holland

To be a king of no land,

Or else must be monarch of Poland;

Was ever son so loyal as he?

Lord Gray, and Armstrong the bully,

That prudent and politic knight,

Who made of his grace such a cully,

Together have taken their flight,

Is this your races, horse-matches,

His grace's swift dispatches,

From shire to shire,

Under the hatches?

Now above deck you dare not appear.

_The Conspiracy, or the Discovery of the Fanatic Plot._

These ostentatious progresses were devised by Shaftesbury, as a mode

of manifesting the strength of Monmouth's party, and increasing his

partizans and popularity. Among the higher ranks, they carried an air

of defiance which rather hurt his cause; for reflecting and cautious

men were slow to join in what seemed to be a preliminary for civil war.

It was different with the lower orders, who, always biassed by what

is more immediately addressed to their eye-sight, were led by these

showy processions, and by the courtesy, activity, and fine presence

of Monmouth, to doat on him to an incredible degree. Not only did

the western peasantry, on his landing in 1685, crowd to join him in

multitudes beyond what he could arm, but their attachment survived even

his defeat and death; and they long believed, with fond credulity, that

another person had been executed in his stead, and that their beloved

protestant prince was still alive.

The arts of Absalom, in stealing the hearts of Israel from his father,

form an exact parallel to the language which Dryden puts in the mouth

of Monmouth.

"And it came to pass after this, that Absalom prepared him chariots and

horses, and fifty men to run before him. And Absalom rose up early, and

stood beside the way of the gate: and it was so, that when any man that

had a controversy came to the king for judgment, then Absalom called

unto him, and said, Of what city art thou? And he said, Thy servant

is one of the tribes of Israel. And Absalom said unto him, See, thy

matters are good and right; but there is no man deputed of the king

to hear thee. Absalom said moreover, Oh that I were made judge in the

land, that every man, which hath any suit or cause, might come unto me,

and I would do him justice! And it was so, that when any man came nigh

unto him to do him obeisance, he put forth his hand, and took him, and

kissed him. And on this manner did Absalom to all Israel, that came

to the king for judgment. So Absalom stole the hearts of the men of

Israel." 2d Sam. chap. xv. v. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.

Note XXX.

_But hospitable treats did most commend

Wise Issachar, his western wealthy friend._--P. 239.

Thomas Thynne, esquire, of Longleat-hall, called, from his great

wealth, _Tom of Ten Thousand_. He had been formerly a friend of

the Duke of York, but, upon some quarrel between them, he attached

himself warmly to Monmouth. Mr Thynne was one of those gentlemen,

who petitioned for the speedy meeting of parliament, after it was

prorogued in 1679, on account of the heat with which the house pursued

the Exclusion Bill. The king received the intimation very ill; told

Mr Thynne, he was surprised at persons of property countenancing such

proceedings, and that he wished they would mind their own affairs,

and leave him to attend to his. When Monmouth made his progress

through the west of England, as mentioned in the last note, Mr Thynne

received him at his country-seat with all the splendour and liberality

of ancient English hospitality. This gentleman's tragical fate is

well known. He was married to the Lady Ogle, sole heiress of the

Northumberland estate; but, his bride going abroad, the marriage was

never consummated. Count Konigsmark met the lady, fell in love with

her person, or with her fortune, and could see no better road to both

than by assassinating her husband. Accordingly, three foreigners, hired

by the count, or dependents upon him, waylaid Mr Thynne's carriage,

as it passed through Pall-Mall, and shot him with a blunderbuss, in

the manner represented on his tombstone in Westminster Abbey.[335]

The Duke of Monmouth had left the carriage about an hour before the

murder; and sir John Reresby received the thanks of the king for his

activity in apprehending the assassins, without which, suspicions

might have arisen that the attempt was intended against Monmouth by

the court party.[336] Monmouth himself remained all night with his

dying friend, and distinguished himself by his zeal and assiduity in

furthering the search after the murderers. At length, Count Konigsmark

was taken by Gibbons, one of Monmouth's attendants, who seized him, as

he was going on ship-board. When apprehended, Gibbons charged him with

the fact, and added, that he had like to have killed his master, the

Duke of Monmouth; to which the Count answered, "they would not have

killed _him_." The three actual assassins were condemned to death;

but, by some foul play,[337] Konigsmark, who had employed them, and

who came over to England expressly to see that they executed their

bloody commission, was acquitted. Monmouth went to see these subaltern

villains executed. Stern, at the gallows, complained that he died for

a man's fortune whom he never spoke to, for a woman whom he never saw,

for a dead man whom he never had a view of. _True Narrative of the

Horrid Plot, &c._ fol. 1679. p. 64. _State Trials_, Vol. II. p. 503.

Note XXXI.

_------Good King David's life,

Endangered by a brother and a wife._--P. 239.

The accusations against York and the Queen were no part of Oate's

original plot. On the contrary, in the summary of his "True Narrative,"

he informs us, that the "Royal family of the Stuarts are condemned

to be cut off, root and branch, and namely, the King, Duke of York,

and Prince of Orange, because that family have not answered their

expectation, nor have they any hopes that any of them will comply fully

with this their bloody design, when fully discovered to them." And on

the next page, it is again affirmed, that notwithstanding the Duke of

York's zeal for the Catholic religion, "they design to dispose of him

as is aforesaid." But when the public belief in the plot had taken

root, and Shaftesbury had grafted upon it his doctrine of exclusion,

Oates, by degrees, charged the Duke, first with being the innocent and

blind tool of the Catholics whom they intended to succeed his brother,

though he knew nothing of their designs; and finally, with being at

the very depth of all the villainy, and the immediate author of the

Fire of London. As for the queen, her barrenness was a reason, for all

the exclusionists desiring she should be removed, that the king might

have a chance of legitimate issue, to the exclusion of the Duke of

York. Animated by a belief, that this would be agreeable to the king,

Oates had the boldness, at the bar of the House of Commons, to utter

these words, in his affected phraseology, "Aye, Taitus Oates, accause

Catherine, Quean of England, of haigh traison!" The grounds of his

accusation are stated in the trial of Wakeman, the queen's physician,

who, he alleged, was bribed with 15,000l to poison the king, in case he

should escape the poniard of a Jesuit, named Coniers, and the pistols

of Pickering and Groves. Oates then swore, that three Jesuits carried

him with them to Somerset-house, where they were summoned to attend the

Queen; that he remained in an anti-chamber when they were ushered into

her presence; that he heard a female voice say, she would assist Sir

George Wakeman in his project, and would no longer bear these repeated

violations of her bed. When the fathers came out, he desired to see

the queen, and when admitted into the anti-chamber, whence the female

voice had proceeded, he saw the queen, who smiled graciously on him,

and there was no other woman present. These impudent stories, with some

blunders into which the best-breathed witness may fall, saved Wakeman's

life.

The King immediately saw the tendency of this charge, and observed,

"They think I have a mind for a new wife; but for all that, I will not

see an innocent woman abused;" and certainly, had he given way to it,

the Queen would have been in great danger.

Note XXXII.

_In this short file Barzillai first appears,

Barzillai, crowned with honour and with years;

Long since the rising rebels he withstood,

In regions waste, beyond the Jordan's flood,_ &c.

P. 241.

James Butler, Duke, Marquis, and Earl of Ormond, Earl of Ossory and

Brecknock, &c. &c. was as illustrious for his talents, as for his rank,

and distinguished by virtues superior to both. In the difficult and

dangerous situation of Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, he had to maintain

the cause of Charles I. in that kingdom, with very slender means, at

once against the confederated Irish Catholics, and the parliamentary

forces, the more formidable, though less numerous, enemies of the

royal cause. In 1649, he was able, through consummate skill, both as

a politician and general, to boast that he had reduced almost all

Ireland under the royal authority, excepting the cities of Dublin

and Londonderry. But Cromwell's arrival, with 8000 disciplined and

veteran forces, effectually changed the scene. His first exploit was

the storm of Tredagh, or Drogheda, where the besiegers put the whole

garrison to the sword, and committed the most dreadful excesses of

barbarity. After this terrible example of severity, hardly any of

the royal garrisons could be prevailed on to make such a defence, as

might expose them to the same extremity. Wexford, and New Ross, both

very strong places, surrendered without a blow; all the forces under

Lord Inchiquin revolted to the side of the parliament; and, at length,

in 1650, Ormond saw himself under the necessity of abandoning the

kingdom, which he had so long and valiantly defended. From Ireland he

retreated to France, and accompanied King Charles during his exile.

He was much trusted by that prince; and was charged with the task

of withdrawing the Duke of Gloucester from the family of the queen

mother, Henrietta, who was making every possible attempt to induce

him to change his religion. This delicate commission he executed with

dexterity and success. He had afterwards the satisfaction to forward

a reconciliation between the king and his mother, who had been on bad

terms on account of the queen's imprudent interference with her son's

religious tenets. At the Restoration, the Marquis of Ormond, for such

was then his title, was liberally rewarded, in lands and honours,

for his steady attachment to the royal party. He was created Duke of

Ormond in Ireland, and appointed steward of the household, groom of

the stole, and privy counsellor for the three kingdoms. In 1661, he

was made Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. As the duke was a steady friend

of the great Clarendon, his services, and faithful zeal for the king's

real interests, did not prevent his sharing in the disgrace of the

chancellor. He had quarrelled with Lady Castlemaine, then the favourite

mistress, who gave vent to her rage in the most abusive reproaches,

and finally told the duke, she hoped to see him hanged; to which he

made the memorable reply, that, far from wishing her ladyship's days

shortened in return, his greatest desire was _to see her grow old_.

When Clarendon was banished, the prevailing party, and especially the

Duke of Buckingham, entertained a design of impeaching the Duke of

Ormond, and succeeded so far as to deprive him of the lieutenancy of

Ireland. The profligate Buckingham agitated a still darker project, and

is supposed to have hired the famous Blood to attempt the assassination

of his rival, in which the ruffian had nearly succeeded. When Blood

was afterwards taken in his attempt to steal the regalia, the king

being desirous to spare his life, sent to Ormond to intimate his wish,

that his grace would consent to the proposed pardon. Ormond nobly

answered, if his majesty could forgive him the stealing of his crown,

he might easily pardon the assault on his life. The gallant Earl of

Ossery,[338] who guessed whence the attempt originally proceeded,

seeing the Duke of Buckingham shortly afterwards in the presence,

charged him with being the author of the intended assassination; and

added, "if his father came to a violent end, he should be at no loss

to know the author, should consider Buckingham as the murderer, and

pistol him, if he stood behind the king's chair: this" he boldly added,

"I tell you in the king's presence, that you may be sure I shall keep

my word." It does not appear that this spirited speech met either a

retort from Buckingham, or a check from the king. Although the Duke

of Ormond escaped the more open, as well as the more secret practices

of his enemies, he experienced much coldness from the king, partly

on account of his disliking the French intrigues, and partly because

he disdained to pay court to the royal mistresses. Yet he would not

throw up the staff, which he held as lord-steward of the household,

but continued his attendance on court with as much punctuality as if

in the highest favour. This mode of conduct greatly embarrassed the

good-natured, though unprincipled Charles, to whom Ormond's silent

and unreproachful attentions were the most cutting memento of his own

ingratitude. On one occasion, the king appeared so much confused,

that the Duke of Buckingham asked him, whether he had lost the Duke

of Ormond's favour, or Ormond had lost his, since, of the two, his

majesty seemed most out of countenance?--In this neglected situation,

the duke used good-humouredly to compare himself to an old neglected

rusty clock; "yet, even that," said he, "points right once in the

twelve hours, and so perhaps may I." On another occasion, when Colonel

Cary Dillon pressed him for his interest with the king, and said, he

had no friend at court, save God and his grace,--"Alas! poor Cary,"

said the duke, "thou couldst not have two friends who have so little

influence there, and are so much neglected." During all the king's

coldness, the duke never altered his political principles, although

Charles carried his estrangement to the pitch of not even speaking to

him. His opinion of Shaftesbury, and his party, may be learned from an

incident which happened during his disgrace at court. "The day that

the Earl of Shatesbury was declared lord-chancellor, the king broke

through his ordinary rule (of not addressing the duke) and either in

doubt about the wisdom of the step he had taken, or out of curiosity

to know the Duke of Ormond's sentiments of it, went up to him, and,

taking him aside to a window, asked what he thought of his giving the

seals to Lord Shaftesbury, whether he had done prudently or not? His

grace replied, you have doubtless acted very prudently in so doing,

if you know how to get them from him again." _Carte_, Vol. II. p.

462. At length, after the duke had attended court for a year without

receiving a civil word from his sovereign, he suddenly received a

message, that the king meant to sup with him. At the entertainment, no

word of explanation took place, although the ancient cordiality between

the king and his subject seemed to be fully restored. The next day,

when the duke came to the court, as usual, the king observed, "Yonder

comes Ormond; I have done all I can to disoblige him, and render him

as discontented as others; but he will be loyal in spite of my teeth:

I must even take him in again, as the fittest man to govern Ireland."

Accordingly, the duke was restored to his office of lord-lieutenant in

1677.

He held this high situation during the ferment occasioned by the Popish

plot; and although, according to Oates and Bedloe's information, one

branch of that conspiracy was the murder of the duke, yet he did not

escape suspicion of being accessary to it any more than the king, who

was in the same predicament. Lord Shaftesbury, in the parliament of

1679, insinuated an accusation against the duke, on account of the

alleged favour he shewed to Papists. From this charge he was vindicated

by the Earl of Ossory, with an uncommon degree of spirited eloquence.

Alter pleading his father's services against the Roman Catholic

rebels, the danger of assassination from them which he had repeatedly

escaped, and the active share he had in preventing the perversion of

the Duke of Gloucester from the Protestant faith, he thus retorted upon

Shaftesbury; "Having spoke of what he has done, I presume with the same

truth to tell your lordship what he has not done. He never advised the

breaking the triple league; he never advised the shutting up of the

exchequer; he never advised the declaration for a toleration; he never

advised the falling out with the Dutch, and the joining with France;

he was not the author of that most excellent position, _Delenda est

Carthago_; that Holland, a Protestant country, should, contrary to the

true interest of England, be totally destroyed. I beg your lordship

will be so just, as to judge of my father, and of all men, according to

their actions and counsels."[339] Shaftesbury, abashed at this summary

of his former political conduct, so different from that he was now

pursuing, retracted his accusation with some symptoms of confusion.

It remained, however, a capital object with the Whigs, to remove, if

possible, the Duke of Ormond from the management of Ireland, at least

to put in such a council as should trammel his measures. The King's

firmness disconcerted both these plans. At the momentous period when

Shaftesbury was committed to the Tower, the Duke of Ormond was sent

for to England, that his presence might add respectability and weight

to the king's councils. He entered the city with great pomp; and was

every where received with the veneration due to his rank, his age, and

his services. He had never linked himself to any political faction;

contented to serve the crown upon the old cavalier principles, which

he always asserted. He was thought, however, to go too great lengths

in advising the king to maintain his authority by harsh measures; nor

were his experience and authority sufficient to prevent much confused

jarring in the king's councils, betwixt Halifax, who was for holding

the scales even between the factions, and the high-flying Tories, who

were posting towards arbitrary power. Yet, as a steady supporter of

the interests of the crown, particularly in the course of the city

elections, he deserved the honour which Dryden has assigned him, of

standing the first in the file of the king's friends.

The King was pleased to reward the services of Ormond by giving him the

rank of an English Duke, in 1682. After having been so long threatened

with removal, as a favourer of the Papists, he was actually deprived of

the lieutenancy of Ireland, in 1684, for not being disposed to second

James II. in the countenance which he meant to afford that sect. The

great Duke of Ormond, to which epithet he has a just title, died on the

21 July, 1688, without witnessing the second banishment of the house of

Stewart.

This great statesman was a particular patron of Dryden, as is evident

from the dedication of "Plutarch's Lives;" where our author again

expresses his respect for the father, and his regret for the son. After

the death of both, our poet continued to enjoy the countenance of their

successor, James, second Duke of Ormond, son of the gallant Ossory, to

whom he has dedicated the Fables.

Note XXXIII.

_His bed could once a fruitful issue boast;

Now more than half a father's name is lost.

His eldest hope, with every grace adorned,

By me, so heaven will have it, always mourned,

And always honoured, snatched, in manhood's prime,

By unequal fates, and providence's crime._--P. 242.

The Duke of Ormond had eight sons, and two daughters. Six of those

sons were dead in 1681, when this poem was published. He, over whom

Dryden pours forth this lamentation, was the gallant Thomas, Earl of

Ossory, whom, in the last note, we have exhibited as the guardian

of his father's life and reputation. At the age of twenty-one, his

external appearance and accomplishments are thus described by one who

knew him well:[340] "He is a young man, with a very handsome face,

a good head of hair, a pretty big voice, well set, and a good round

leg. He pleaseth me exceedingly; being very good-natured, asking many

questions, and humouring the answers. He rides the great horse very

well, is a good tennis player, fencer, and dancer. He understands

music, and plays on the guittar and lute; speaks French eloquently,

reads Italian fluently; is a good historian, and so well versed in

romances, that, if a gallery be full of pictures, or hangings, he will

tell the story of all that are there described. He shuts up his door

at eight o'clock in the evening, and studies till midnight. He is

temperate, courteous, and excellent in all his behaviour." When the

Duke of Ormond went into exile, his son was imprisoned by Cromwell,

but, being afterwards released, he went abroad. In 1659, he married

the daughter of Beverwaert, governor of Sluys, a leading man in the

States-General. Upon the Restoration, he was promoted in the army,

which did not prevent his exerting his gallantry on another element;

for, during the desperate action of four days in 1666, upon hearing

the sound of the cannon, he contrived to get off from Harwich, and

to get on board the Duke of Albemarle, to whom he brought the first

news, that Prince Rupert was recalled to support him. He distinguished

himself by his bravery during the battle in Southwold Bay, and by his

liberality to the wounded seamen after the action. In 1673 he was

made rear-admiral of the blue squadron; and, in the great battle in

which Sir Edward Spragge was killed, he lay by to defend and bring off

that admiral's disabled vessel. He is said to have formed a plan for

revenging the surprise at Chatham, by a descent at Helvoetsluys; when

he averred he would burn the Royal Charles, which the Dutch preserved

as a trophy, and the whole Dutch fleet, with a half-penny candle, or

consent, in case of failure, that his head should be placed beside

Cromwell's on Westminster-Hall. But the scheme was not attempted; being

prevented, it is said, by the envious interposition of Buckingham. In

November 1674, the Earl of Ossory had the honour to be intrusted with

the charge of arranging the match between the Prince of Orange and the

Lady Mary. He served under the prince against the French with great

credit, particularly in the famous battle of Mons, fought 1678, where,

with the British regiments under his command, he executed with glory

the desperate service of beating the French out of their entrenchments.

In April 1680, he was designed Governor of Tangiers, an appointment

with which he was highly pleased; for his courage, being of a romantic

and wild nature, delighted in the prospect of being opposed to such

uncommon adversaries as the Moors. But, while he was busily preparing

for his departure, he was seized with a malignant fever, during the

delirium of which his mind was observed constantly to be occupied with

his intended exploits against the besiegers of Tangiers.[341] He died

on the 30th July, 1680, aged forty-six years. The lamentation for

his loss was general and excessive; the noble reply of his venerable

father, to those who offered him consolation, is well known: "Since he

had borne the death of his king, he could support," he said, "that of

his child; and would rather have his dead son, than any living son in

Christendom."

The Earl of Ossory was a patron of learning; and was mourned, both in

verse and prose, by many other writers, as well as Dryden. Settle,

who then seems to have been in the Tory interest, published a heroic

poem on his death. Flatman wrote a pindaric ode on the same occasion;

for which he received, from the Duke of Ormond, a diamond ring of 100

guineas value.--See WOOD'S _Athenæ Oxon_. There is another ode written

by K. C., perhaps Katherine Cockburn; finally, one bard, resolving to

amuse the nation's mourning by his own, dedicates to Ossory's memory

some exquisite stanzas, beginning thus: "Upon the Earl of Ossory, who

died of a fever, 30th July, 1680."

The best sized pillar of the fairest pile,

That has of late been built on Ireland's isle,

Is fallen; some were too short, others too long,

Some are too old, and others much too young.

* * * * *

Who knew him well, could not believe that ever

He meant to die thus tamely of a fever.

After lamenting, in similar strains, that the subject of his muse had not

---- ----fallen down a scaling ladder;

First by grenadoes rent, or, what is sadder,

Some royal ship his coffin should have been;

he complains, "weeps, and frets," that

---- ----the king, the nation,

Ireland, his house, and the whole confederation

Of worthy men, his children, and his wife,

Were all trepanned and cozen'd of his life;

For he (who fire and hail was proof) with ice

Was burned, and with a peach shot in a trice.

It is curious, and not quite useless, to see how admirably such a poet

can succeed in turning into farce the most lofty subject.

Note XXXIV.

_Zadoc the priest, whom, shunning power and place,

His lowly mind advanced to David's grace._--P. 243.

Sancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury, was, in principle and practice,

a rigid high-church man. He even harboured notions favourable to the

celibacy of the clergy, and other ascetic doctrines of the church of

Rome. Burnet says, "that he was a man of solemn deportment, sullen

gravity, and some learning." He made profession of the old cavalier

faith and principles of loyalty, which rendered him acceptable to

the court and the high-church party in general, although his temper

was austere and reserved, and his manners dry and distant. Yet the

Archbishop, though so harshly described by his brother of Sarum,

displayed, on one urgent occasion, a becoming readiness to assert

the doctrine of the church of England against those of Rome; and on

another, the steadiness of his own political principles, although his

adherence, in both instances, exposed him to persecution from those

in power. While the head of the high-church party, this primate was

the first to encourage the bishops and clergy to a refusal to read the

king's declaration of indulgence; he concerted also, and signed the

memorable petition, for which, with six other prelates, he suffered

imprisonment and trial, by one of the most imprudent exertions of

power which an infatuated monarch ever attempted. On the 16th of July,

1688, this primate recommended a set of articles to the bishops within

his metropolitan jurisdiction, inculcating residence and attention to

parochial duties; but especially, that the clergy should take heed of

Romish emissaries, who, like the old serpent, _insidiantur calcaneo_,

and besiege the beds of dying persons, to unsettle their faith. He

also recommends a tender regard to their "brethren, the protestant

dissenters," and an union with them against the church of Rome. At

the Revolution, the Archbishop was one of those privy counsellors who

invited the Prince of Orange to take charge of the government; but as

his principles did not permit him to accede to any step for removing

King James from the throne, he declined sitting in the Convention of

the estates. In conformity to the same principles, he refused to take

the oaths of allegiance to the Revolution government; and was, in

consequence, first suspended, and finally deprived of his dignity, in

which he was succeeded by the famous Tillotson. He was regarded by the

high-church party as a confessor, if not a martyr, for the doctrine of

passive obedience. Sancroft died in 1693.

Note XXXV.

_With him the Sagan of Jerusalem,

Of hospitable soul, and noble stem._--P. 243.

Compton, Bishop of London, was youngest son of the late, and brother

to the then Earl of Northampton. He had been a soldier until he was

thirty and upwards, when he exchanged the sword for the gown. He is

said by Burnet to have been a great hater of Popery, and exact in

performing the duties of his diocese; but unlearned, weak, and wilful.

He was a high-church man, and held some reputation in the party, from

his personal rank, and the dignity of his situation. In other respects,

the bishop seems to have been good-tempered and hospitable, but much

at the devotion of the Earl of Danby, who had early assisted him with

his patronage. Although the Duke of York hated Compton, yet the charge

of the education of the Princesses Mary and Anne devolved upon him. In

the reign of James II., he distinguished himself in the House of Peers,

by a severe rebuff to the insolence of Jefferies, the Chancellor.

Soon after, the Bishop was cited before the illegal court, called the

Ecclesiastical Commission, to answer for having refused to obey the

king's command, by suspending Sharpe, a clergyman, who had preached a

sermon against Popery. He requested a copy of their commission; but

Jefferies, with his usual violence, told him, he might have it for a

penny in any coffeehouse, and he might believe, in the mean while, that

they were not such fools as to sit there without an effectual one.

After some delay, he was suspended from his function, until the news

of the Prince of Orange's intended expedition, when his suspension was

removed. The credit which the bishop acquired by this persecution,

amounted to what Mulgrave called a "reverential popularity, which,"

his lordship adds, "he of all the bishops would have found it most

difficult to have acquired otherwise." This led to the Bishop of

London playing what, considering his age and situation, was rather a

remarkable part in the Revolution; when Prince George of Denmark went

over to the Prince of Orange, and the princess, his wife, afterwards

Queen Anne, either fearing the resentment of her father, or determined

by the councils of Lady Churchill, (afterwards the famous Duchess of

Marlborough,) resolved to leave Whitehall, and abandon her father's

party. The Bishop acted as her escort on this occasion; and, the time

and circumstances reviving his military habits, he rode before her

coach to Northampton, with pistols at his saddle, and a drawn sword

in his hand. It may easily be believed, that Dryden did not greatly

approve of this last exploit of his hospitable and noble Sagan; and he

has left a pretty strong testimony of his latter opinion, if the verses

called "_Suum Cuique_" are really written by him:

I should admit the booted prelate now,

But he is even for lampoon too low;

The scum and outcast of a royal race,

The nation's grievance, and the gown's disgrace.

None so unlearned did e'er at London sit;

This driveller does the holy chair b----.

I need not brand the spiritual parricide,

Nor draw the weapon dangling by his side;

The astonished world remembers that offence,

And knows he stole the daughter of his prince.

'Tis time enough, in some succeeding age,

To bring this mitred captain on the stage.

Note XXXVI.

_Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense

Flows in fit words, and heavenly eloquence._--P. 243.

Dolben, Bishop of Rochester, and Dean of Westminster, had borne arms

in his youth for Charles I., who made him a major. He was, according

to Burnet, an excellent preacher, but a man of more spirit than

discretion, and imprudent in his behaviour. He is unanimously allowed

to have been a good-natured easy man, of most amiable manners. In 1683,

he was promoted to the see of York, and made a very good archbishop.

Dolben died in 1686.

Settle attempts to droll upon the praises bestowed by Dryden on these

three bishops, and assures us,

Not David's lyre could more his touch obey;

As their princes breathe and strike, they play.

'Gainst royal will they never can dispute; }

But, by a strange tarantula struck mute, }

Dance to no other tune but absolute: }

Besides, they've sense of honour and who knows

How far the gratitude of priestcraft goes?

* * * * *

And what if now, like old Elisha fed,

To praise the sooty bird that brought them bread,

In pure acknowledgment, though in despite

Of their own sense, they paint the raven white?

_Absalom Senior._

Note XXXVII.

_Sharp-judging Adriel, the muses friend,

Himself a muse._--P. 243.

Adriel is the Earl of Mulgrave, afterwards Marquis of Normanby and

Duke of Buckingham. He was one of Dryden's most early and effectual

patrons. The "Essay upon Satire" was their joint composition, and

Dryden inscribed to him his play of "Aureng-Zebe." The praise bestowed

by Dryden is, as usual, discriminating and appropriate. Mulgrave

exhibits his "sharp judgement" in his "Essay on Poetry," which contains

some good critical remarks; but of his lordship's poetical talents we

have spoken sufficiently elsewhere.[342] His political principles were

those of a staunch Tory, which he maintained through his whole life;

and was zealous for the royal prerogative, although he had no small

reason to complain of Charles II., who, to avenge himself of Mulgrave,

for a supposed attachment to the Princess Anne, sent him to Tangiers,

at the head of some troops, in a leaky vessel, which it was supposed

must have perished in the voyage. Though Mulgrave was apprized of the

danger, he scorned to shun it; and the Earl of Plymouth, a favourite

son of the king, generously insisted upon sharing it along with him.

This ungenerous attempt to destroy him, in the very act of performing

his duty, with the refusal of a regiment, made a temporary change in

Mulgrave's conduct. He connected himself for a time with the country

party;[343] but he soon returned to his original principles, and

continued steadily to support the court during the progress of the

Exclusion Bill, and in all the stormy debates of the troubled period to

which Dryden's poem refers. Yet he evinced, that he was not a "slave

of state;" for, although James II. made him Lord High Chamberlain,

he withstood all the measures which that ill-advised prince adopted

in behalf of the Catholic religion. He silenced a priest, who was

labouring for his conversion, and had begun with the doctrine of

transubstantiation, by the famous repartee, that "though he believed

God made man, he could not believe that man was quits by making God in

return." But he stood gallantly by King James to the very last, and had

the courage to insist upon the council taking measures for the safety

of that unfortunate monarch's person, when, after his first flight, he

was seized by the sailors at Feversham.

Dryden says, Adriel was adorned with the "honours torn from his

disobedient son;" because, when Monmouth was deprived of the government

of Hull and lieutenancy of Yorkshire, the king conferred them upon the

Earl of Mulgrave.

Note XXXVIII.

_Jotham, of piercing wit, and pregnant thought,

Endued by nature, and by learning taught,

To move assemblies, who but only tried

The worse awhile, then chose the better side:

Nor chose alone, but turned the balance too;

So much the weight of one brave man, can do._--P. 243.

Sir George Saville, Viscount, Earl, and at length Marquis of Halifax,

was the prime minister of Charles during the last years of his

reign. He was a man of fine genius and lively imagination; but, as a

politician, was guided rather by a desire to display the full extent

of artful and nice management of parties, than by any steady or

consistent principle of his own. He was at the head of the small party

called Trimmers, who affected a sort of neutrality between the Whig

and Tory factions, and were, of course, suspected and hated by both.

He originally made a figure in opposition to the court, particularly

upon the great debates concerning the test, which he keenly opposed. He

voted at first for the bill of Exclusion; and used the jocular argument

against hereditary government, that no man would chuse a man to drive

his carriage, merely because his father had been a good coachman. But

when that great question came finally to be debated in the House of

Lords, on the 15th November, 1680, Halifax had changed his opinion;

and he even conducted the opposition to the bill, and displayed an

extent of capacity and eloquence, equally astonishing to friends

and foes, and which, perhaps, never was surpassed in that assembly.

Even Shaftesbury sank before this versatile orator; and there seems

little doubt, that his eloquence had a great effect in deciding the

issue of that day's famous debate, by which the Exclusion Bill was

thrown out for ever. The House of Commons was so much incensed against

Halifax, that they voted an address for his removal from the king's

councils. The king, however, found his own advantage in the fine and

balancing policy of Halifax; and, far from consenting to his disgrace,

promoted him to the rank of Marquis, and office of Privy Seal, which

was hardly more displeasing to the Whigs than to the Duke of York.

To the over-bearing measures of this prince, Halifax was secretly a

determined opponent; it was his uniform object to detach Monmouth

so far from the violent councils and party of Shaftesbury, that the

interest which he still retained in the king's affections might be

employed as a counterbalance to that of his brother. He prevailed upon

the king to see Monmouth, after the discovery of the Rye-house Plot;

and, had the duke then proved more practicable, it is possible, that,

backed with the interest of Halifax, he might have regained his place

in the king's favour. Upon this occasion, the Duke of York was not

consulted, and made open show of his displeasure. Indeed Halifax told

Sir John Reresby, that the Duke would never forgive him.[344] It is

even said, that, immediately before the death of Charles, there was a

scheme in agitation, under the management of Halifax, for recalling

Monmouth, sending York to Scotland, calling a parliament, and totally

changing the violent measures of the last two years.[345] If so, it was

prevented by the king's sudden death, and left Halifax exposed to the

resentment of his successor. For some time, James, in consideration

of his great services during the dependence of the Bill of Exclusion,

treated him with seeming confidence; but finding him unwilling to go

the lengths he proposed in religious matters, and particularly in the

proposed repeal of the test acts, he was totally disgraced. Alter this

period, the Marquis of Halifax engaged with those lords who invited

over the Prince of Orange; and joined so cordially in the Revolution,

that he was made Keeper of the Seals by King William. He died in April

1695.

Amidst the various political changes of this thorough-paced statesman,

it ought not to be forgotten, that, though he sided with the court

during the last years of King Charles, his councils were a salutary

check on the arbitrary measures urged by the Duke of York; and that he

probably merited the praise, which Dryden elsewhere bestows on him, "of

preventing a civil war, and extinguishing a growing fire, which was

just ready to have broken forth."[346]

Note XXXIX.

_Hushai, the friend of David in distress;

In public storms, of manly stedfastness;

By foreign treaties he informed his youth,

And joined experience to his native truth._--P. 244.

Laurence Hyde, second son to the great Earl of Clarendon, created

Earl of Rochester by Charles II. Even after his father's fall, he

contrived to retain the confidence of Charles, and in 1676 was employed

on an embassy to Poland. He was also one of the plenipotentiaries

at the treaty of Nimeguen, and for some time ambassador in Holland;

to which diplomatic situations Dryden alludes in the text. He was

named one of the commissioners of the treasury in 1679, and had very

considerable influence, by which the poet reaped some advantage; for,

notwithstanding the exhausted state of the exchequer, he acknowledges,

that, contrary to the famous comparison of Cowley, Gideon's fleece had

been moistened, when all the ground around was parched. Rochester was

a steady opposer of the Bill of Exclusion, for which, in 1681, he was

voted a public enemy by the House of Commons. Indeed, that measure must

have materially affected the interests of the Duke of York's daughters,

to whom Rochester stood in the relation of maternal uncle. For the same

reason, as well as from political principle, he as keenly withstood the

Duke of Monmouth s pretensions; for which he is stigmatised by Settle,

in lines of which the following is a specimen:

Of these, than subtile Caleb none more great;

Caleb, who shines where his lost father set.

* * * * *

Caleb, who does that hardy pilot make,

Steering in that hereditary track,

Blind to the sea-mark of a father's wrack.

Notwithstanding the compliments bestowed by Dryden on Rochester for

his management of the exchequer, he was, when in the high situation of

Lord Treasurer, 1682, accused of peculation by his rival Halifax, who

so far prevailed, that Rochester was removed to the more honourable but

less important office, of President of the Council; on which occasion

his witty adversary first applied the since well-known phrase, of "his

lordship's being kicked up stairs." After the accession of King James,

Rochester was again made Lord Treasurer, but soon lost the staff for

his repugnance to enter into the violent measures of that monarch. He

had consented to be present at a conference between some Catholic and

Protestant divines, but treated the arguments of the former with a

contempt which James could not forgive. At the Revolution he observed

a sullen neutrality; and, though uncle to Queen Mary, never heartily

acquiesced in her title to the crown, or reaped any benefit from its

being occupied by so near a relation. King William never could forgive

his once having passed through the Low Countries without waiting upon

him.

He was a particular patron of Dryden, who inscribed to him the "Duke

of Guise" and "Cleomenes," with expressions of great gratitude and

respect. See Vol. VII. p. 13. Vol. VIII. p. 191.

Note XL.

_Indulge one labour more, my weary muse,

For Amiel; who can Amiel's praise refuse?

Of ancient race by birth, but nobler yet

In his own worth, and without title great:

The Sanhedrim long time as chief he ruled,

Their reason guided, and their passion cooled._--P. 244.

Edward Seymour, afterward Sir Edward Seymour, Bart., was descended

of the elder branch of the illustrious family of that name, and was

ancestor of the present Duke of Somerset. He is said to have attached

great importance to his high birth, and to have been esteemed the

proudest commoner in England. He was speaker of the House of Commons

under the Earl of Danby's administration; a post which he filled with

a mixture of dexterity and dignity. Burnet says, he knew the House and

every man of it so well, that at one glance he could tell the fate of

every motion. This he used as a means of serving the court; contriving

usually to protract the debate when their party were not assembled

in strength. It was alleged by his enemies, that he was the channel

through which gratuities were distributed to the court members; which

charge is grossly urged in Settle's poem called "Absalom Senior."[347]

These charges seem to be exaggerated; at least it is certain, that

Seymour's conduct as speaker was not uniformly, or servilely, guided

by devotion to the court; and that he was acceptable to the Commons,

for the Parliament, in 1679, chose him speaker anew, in opposition

to Mr Meres, who was proposed by the court party. But when Seymour

was next day presented as speaker to the king, he refused to receive

him as such, and said, he had indispensable occasion for his services

in another capacity. At this time the crown claimed a voice in the

nomination of the speaker, and the dispute became very warm, till it

was terminated by the king conceding, that the right of election was

in the House, upon their passing from the election of Mr Seymour, and

chusing Mr Sergeant Gregory. He was afterwards made Treasurer of the

Navy, and was in that office in 1680, when an impeachment was moved

against him for corruption and mal-administration. But the House of

Lords repelled the impeachment; which seems only to have been founded

in party clamour. In the following year he was voted a public enemy,

for opposing the Bill of Exclusion. In the slavish parliament of 1685,

Seymour had the boldness to deliver a speech on the irregularity of the

elections, which had been much biassed by the crown. He told the House,

that many doubted whether they were the true representatives of the

people; and that little justice was expected on petitions, where too

many were guilty to judge justly and impartially. He said, it concerned

the House to look to this; for, if the nation saw no equity was to be

expected from them, they might take means to make the members suffer

that justice which they would not grant. No one among the astonished

members had been aware of Seymour's intentions, so none were prepared

either to second or answer this bold harangue. This statesman was a

friend to the Revolution; he joined the Prince of Orange at Exeter,

and was the first to propose that an association should be signed,

without which, he observed, the insurgents were as a rope of sand.

On this occasion, the Prince, meaning a compliment, asked Seymour if

he was not of the Duke of Somerset's family? "No, please your royal

highness," was the reply; "the Duke is of mine." This gave the Prince

the first idea of the conscious dignity of an English commoner. William

placed Devonshire under his government. In the parliament of 1700-1,

Sir Edward Seymour was active in detecting the corrupt practices of

elections, and received the thanks of the House for having protected

its constitution.

Note XLI.

_Thus, from his royal throne, by heaven inspired,

The godlike David spoke, &c._--P. 245.

Spence, on the authority of a priest whom he often met at Mr Pope's,

has stated, that the king _obliged_ Dryden to put his speech to the

Oxford Parliament into verse, and insert it at the close of "Absalom

and Achitophel." Mr Malone has extracted the following parallel

passages, which give some countenance to the tradition; although Dryden

is just as likely to have versified them of his own accord as by the

royal command; for this speech was the talisman by which he was to

extricate David from all his difficulties.[348]

"The unwarrantable proceedings of the last House of Commons were the

occasion of my parting with the last parliament; for I, who will

never use arbitrary government myself, am resolved not to suffer it

in others. ---- I am unwilling to mention particulars, because I am

desirous to forget faults; but whoever shall calmly consider what

offers I have formerly made, and what assurances I made to the last

Parliament,----and then shall reflect upon the strange unsuitable

returns made to such propositions by men who were called together to

_consult_, perhaps may wonder more that I had patience so long, than

that at last I grew weary of their proceedings. ---- I conclude with

this one advice to you, that the rules and measures of all your votes

may be the known and established laws of the land, which neither can

nor ought to be departed from, nor changed, but by act of Parliament;

and I may the more reasonably require, that you make the laws of the

land your rule, because I am resolved they shall be mine."

Note XLII.

_The offenders question my forgiving right._--P. 245.

In the case of the Earl of Danby, the King's power of granting him a

pardon was warmly disputed; it being supposed, that the crown had no

power to remit the penalty of high treason. So far was this notion

stretched, that, as we have already seen, the sheriffs, Bethel and

Cornish, contested, in the case of Lord Stafford, the king's right to

exchange the statutory punishment of hanging, drawing, and quartering,

for that of beheading. They applied by petition to the House of

Commons to have their scruples removed, and, _proh pudor!_ received

the countenance of Lord Russell in this brutal scruple. The king did

not forget this circumstance when the writ was issued for Russell's

execution: "He shall find," said Charles, in appointing the commutation

of punishment, "that I have the privilege which he was pleased to deny

in the case of Lord Stafford."

The petitioners, mentioned immediately afterwards, are those who called

upon the king by petition to summon the parliament. These applications

were highly displeasing to Charles, whose followers, to balance

them, made equally violent addresses, expressing their abhorrence of

tumultuary petitions. Almost every county and town was thus divided

into petitioners, and addressers, or abhorrers, as they were sometimes

called. The former experienced, on occasion of presenting their

petitions, the royal frowns; while the latter were in a very summary

manner committed, by the House of Commons, to the custody of their

serjeant. This arbitrary course was ended by the refusal of one Stowel

to submit to the arrest, which contempt the House were fain to pass

over, by voting that he was indisposed.

Note XLIV.

_By their own arts 'tis righteously decreed,

Those dire atificers of death shall bleed.

Against themselves their witnesses will swear,

Till, viper-like, their mother-plot they tear._--P. 247.

This is rather an imprudent avowal of what was actually the policy

of the court faction at this time. They contrived to turn against

Shaftesbury and his party, many of those very witnesses by whom so many

Catholics had been brought to execution. Dugdale, Turberville, Haynes,

and Smith, all of whom had been witnesses of the plot, now came as

readily forward to convict Colledge, Howard, and Shaftesbury himself,

of high treason. Such infamous traffic ought to have deprived them of

credit on all sides; but it was the misfortune of the time, that, swear

what they would one day, and the exact contrary the next, they, on each

occasion, found a party to countenance, believe, and reward them.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 294: See a very scurrilous one, entitled, "The Queen's Ball,"

in the _State Poems_, Vol. III. p. 74, beginning,

Reform, great queen, the errors of your youth,

And hear a thing you never heard, called Truth.

Poor private balls content the Fairy Queen;

You must dance, and dance damnably, to be seen.

Ill-natured little goblin, and designed

For nothing but to dance and vex mankind,

What wiser thing could our great monarch do,

Than root ambition out, by showing you?

You can the most aspiring thoughts pull down.

]

[Footnote 295: Sheffield Duke of Buckingham's Memoirs.]

[Footnote 296: "A Letter to a Person of Honour concerning the

Black-box." "A Letter to a Person of Honour concerning the King's

disavowing the having been married to the Duke of Monmouth's Mother."]

[Footnote 297: Sir John Rereby's Memoirs, p. 170.]

[Footnote 298: See note XX.]

[Footnote 299: Sir John Dalrymple narrates this anecdote, Vol. I. p.

187. 8vo edit. The Editor has often heard it mentioned by his father,

who was curious in historical antiquities, and who gave it on the

report of his grandfather, to whom Captain Scott had told the story.

According to this last authority, which the relationship between

the parties renders probable, the intercepted letter contained some

details concerning the Prince of Orange's intrigues with Monmouth, and

the duplicity of Sunderland. It is more than probable, if that wise

prince encouraged Monmouth in his enterprise, it could only be with the

purpose of hastening his destruction.]

[Footnote 300: Sheffield Duke of Buckingham's Memoirs, p. 12.]

[Footnote 301: Cartes' Life of the Duke of Ormond. Vol. II. pp. 531,

533.]

[Footnote 302: Memoirs, p. 12.]

[Footnote 303: Vol. VII. p. 80.]

[Footnote 304: It is entitled, "On the three Dukes killing the Beadle

on Sunday morning, February 26th 1670-1." The moral runs thus:

See what mishaps dare even invade Whitehall;

This silly fellow's death puts off the ball;

And disappoints the Queen, poor little chuck,

I warrant 'twould have danced it like a duck:

The fidlers voices entries all the sport;

And the gay show put off, where the brisk court

Anticipates in rich subsidy coats,

All that is got by mercenary votes;

Yet shall Whitehall, the innocent, the good,

See these men dance all daubed with lace and blood.

]

[Footnote 305: Alluding to the king's well known intrigue with Nell

Gwyn.]

[Footnote 306: The Duke was then captain of the king's horse guards.]

[Footnote 307: The first effectual step taken by the court to defend

themselves against popular clamour, was in the "Observator," and other

periodical or occasional publications of L'Estrange, which had a great

effect on the public mind. But during the first clamorous outcry after

the Popish plot was started, nothing of this kind was, or probably

could be, attempted; while, on the other hand, the press teemed with

all manner of narratives of the plot, every one stuffed with more

horrid circumstances than those which preceded it; and the sale of

which was no inconsiderable part of the recompence of the various

witnesses by whom they were composed, sworn to, and published.]

[Footnote 308: _Examen_, p. 204.]

[Footnote 309: Thus, to instance the "pedantic manner, vanity, defiance

of criticism, rhodomontade and poetical bravado" of modern poets, he

gives some extracts from the preface of "Don Sebastian," and adds, "who

can after this say of the Rehearsal author, that his picture of our

poet was over charged?"--_Miscellany 5_. Chap. 2. His lordship also

glances repeatedly at Dryden in his _Advice to an Author_.]

[Footnote 310: RALEIGH'S _Redivivus_, p. 53.]

[Footnote 311: NORTH'S _Examen_, p. 60.]

[Footnote 312: _Ibid._ p. 57.]

[Footnote 313: _Shaftesbury_.]

[Footnote 314: This horrid story is alluded to by the author of

Absalom's IX Worthies:

Next Zimri, banckrupt of wit and pence,

Proved Jew by's circumcised evidence;

T' enjoy his Cosbi, he her husband killed;

The rest o' the story waits to be fullfilled.

]

[Footnote 315: Cartes' life of the Duke of Ormond, vol. II. p. 345.]

[Footnote 316: To the memory of the illustrious Prince, George Duke of

Buckingham. (25 May, 1637.)]

[Footnote 317: A committee man.]

[Footnote 318: Sir Denzil Hollis. Luk's _Annus Mirabilis_.--(His Grace

mistakes; it is Sir _Frescheville_ Hollis.)]

[Footnote 319: See his poem on Cromwell.]

[Footnote 320: See his poem, p. 27, 28.]

[Footnote 321: In "Absalom's nine Worthies" he is thus commemorated:

The next Priapus Balaam, of whom 'tis said,

His brains did lie more in his tail than's head,

Sprouted of royal stem, in ancient days;

'Tis an ill bird that his own nest bewrays.

]

[Footnote 322:

Next, Monmouth came in with an army of fools,

Betrayed by his cuckold, and other dull tools,

Who painted the turf of green Sedgemore with gules.

]

[Footnote 323:

_The Riddle of the Roundhead_.

Perkin makes fine legs to the shouting rabble,

Who to make him king he thinks are able;

But the bauble

Is only shewed for use:

The silly ideot serves but for a tool still,

For knaves to work their feats;

And will remain a dull mistaken fool still,

For all their damned cabals, and Wapping treats.

* * * * *

Oxford loyal youths, who scorn to sham us

With a perjured bill of Ignoramus,

Or name us

For loyal traitors known;

Soon found a flaw i'the bottom of the joyner,

By justice, and the laws,

Of church and commonwealth an underminer,

Who fell a martyr in the good old cause.

]

[Footnote 324: He protested to Burnet, that God and his holy angels

could witness, he only went among them for this purpose. After which,

the Bishop says, he paid no regard to any thing he could say, or swear.]

[Footnote 325: One can hardly help exclaiming, with the punning author

of a ballad called "Oates well thresh't,"

A curse on every thing that's hight Oates;

Both young and old, both black and white Oates

Both long and short, both light and Tite Oates!

He is thus stigmatized as one of Absalom's nine worthies:

Last Corah, unexhausted mine of plots,

Incredible to all but knaves and sots;

He surely may for a new Sampson pass,

That kills so sure with jaw-bone of an ass.

]

[Footnote 326: _Examen_, p. 223.]

[Footnote 327: Ibid. p. 254.]

[Footnote 328: Ibid. p. 225.]

[Footnote 329: This man told a fable of forty thousand Spanish

pilgrims, who were to invade Britain, and eke of a number of black

bills, wherewith the Irish Catholics were to be armed. Some wag has

enumerated his discoveries in the verses entitled, "Funeral Tears upon

the Death of Captain William Bedlow:"

"England, the mighty loss bemoan,

Thy watchful centinal is gone.

Now may the pilgrims land from Spain,

And, undiscovered, cross the main;

Now may the forty thousand men.

In popish arms, be raised again.

Black bills may fly about our ears,

Who shall secure us from our fears?

Jesuits may fall to their old sport, }

Of burning, slaying, town and court, }

And we never the wiser for't. }

Then pity us; exert thy power,

To save us in this dangerous hour;

Thou hast to death sworn many men,

Ah! swear thyself to life agen."

]

[Footnote 330: A hackney-coachman, named Corral, was very cruelly

treated in Newgate, in order to induce him to swear, that he conveyed

the dead body of Godfrey out of town in his coach. But he resisted both

threats and torments; so that at length another means of conveyance was

hit upon, for Prance bore witness that he carried it upon a horse.]

[Footnote 331: This gentleman was, after Monmouth's defeat, fain to pay

the famous Jeffries 15,000l. to save his life, though he never could

learn what he was accused of.]

[Footnote 332: There were two brothers of this name. One was convicted

of a misdemeanour for aiding Braddon in his enquiry into the death of

the Earl of Essex. The other was executed for joining in Monmouth's

invasion. Jefferies exclaimed on his trial, that his family owed

justice a life, and that he should die for the sake of his name.]

[Footnote 333: An Historical Account of the Heroic Life and Magnanimous

Actions of the most illustrious Protestant Prince, James, Duke of

Monmouth, 12mo. 1683. p. 99. _et sequen._]

[Footnote 334: Ibid, p. 113.]

[Footnote 335: Two of these, Captain Vratz and Lieutenant Stern, had

distinguished themselves as brave officers; and it is remarkable that

neither seemed to have a feeling of the base and dishonourable nature

of their undertaking. The third, Borosky, was a poor Pole, who thought

himself justified by his master's orders. There is an interesting

account of their behaviour in prison, and at execution, in the Harleian

Miscellany.]

[Footnote 336: This circumstance is alluded to in a ballad on the

occasion, which mentions Monmouth's anxiety to discover the assassins:

But heaven did presently find out

What, with great care, he could not do;

'Twas well he was the coach gone out,

Or he might have been murdered too;

For they, who did this squire kill,

Would fear the blood of none to spill.

From a Grub-Street broadside, entitled "Murder Unparalleled," in

_Luttrel Collect._

"Captain Vratz's Ghost to Count Coningsmark," 18. March, 1681-2, by a

Western Gentleman:

"Who was't thus basely brought unto his end

The loyal Monmouth's wealthy western friend."

]

[Footnote 337: It is probable either Stern or Boroski, if not Vratz,

would have justified themselves at the Count's expence, had it suited

the crown to have promised them a pardon on such conditions.]

[Footnote 338: The Duke of Ormond's eldest son.--See next note.]

[Footnote 339: Appendix to Life of Ormond, No. XCIII.]

[Footnote 340: Sir Richard Southwell. See Life of Ormond, Vol. II. p.

161.]

[Footnote 341:

War, and war's darling goddess, left him last;

As living he adored her, he embraced

Her dying, in his pangs he held her fast;

Still at Tangier his waving ensigns flye,

Forts, bulwarks, trenches, glide before his eye;

And though, by fate itself disarmed, he dies,

Even his last breath his sooty foes defies;

He still his visionary thunder poured,

And grasped the very shadow of a sword.

These lines occur in Settle's poem, and are illustrated by this Note:

"All the delirium of his fever was wholly taken up with defending

Tangiers, and fighting the Moors."]

[Footnote 342: See some particulars concerning this nobleman, Vol. V.

p. 174.; and in the introductory observations to the "Essay on Satire."]

[Footnote 343: "A young Lord (Mulgrave,) newly come of age, owned

himself to his majesty disobliged, because, after a voyage to Tangier,

his great valour there, _and spending his youth in the king's service_,

(these were his own words to the king,) another was preferred to the

command of the Lord Plymouth's regiment. I cannot but commend this

nobleman's ingenuity, in owning the true cause, and not pretending, as

others, conscience and public good for his motives. But I am sorry he

should forget, not only the obligations of gratitude, which he is under

for his bread, and for his honour, but also who says, "Appear not wise

before the king, and give not counsel unasked." He has learning enough

to understand the meaning of, _In concilium non vocatus ne accesseris_.

It is to be hoped he may repent, and with more years his wit may be

turned into wisdom." _Seasonable address to parliament_. SOMERS'

_Tracts_, p. 118.]

[Footnote 344: Reresby's Memoirs, p. 172.]

[Footnote 345: Hume, Vol. VIII. p. 209.]

[Footnote 346: See the Dedication to "King Arthur," Vol. VIII. p. 113.]

[Footnote 347:

Next Jonas stands, bull faced but chicken-souled,

Who once the silver Sanhedrim controuled,

Their gold tipped tongue; gold his great council's bawd,

Till by succeeding Sanhedrims outlawed.

He was preferred to guard the sacred store,

There lordly rolling in whole mines of ore;

To dicing lords a cully favourite,

He prostitutes whole cargoes in a night.

Then to the top of his ambition come,

Fills all his sayls for hopeful Absalom;

For his religion's as the reason calls,

God's in possession, in reversion Baal's;

He bears himself a dove to mortal race,

And though not man, he can look heaven i' th' face.

Never was compound of more different stuff,

A heart in lambskin, and a conscience buff.

]

[Footnote 348: Otway attributes the same magic power to the king's

speech. After calling on a painter to depict a tumultuous senate, he

adds,

But then let mighty Charles at distance stand,

His crown upon his head, and sceptre in his hand,

To send abroad his word; or, with a frown,

Repel and dash the aspiring rebels down.

Unable to behold his dreaded ray,

Let them grow blind, disperse, and reel away;

Let the dark fiends the troubled air forsake,

And all new peaceful order seem to take.

_Windsor Castle._

]

ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.